


The Socialite and the Ruffian

by ChillieBean



Series: Outlaws and Crime Lords [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Deadlock AU, Deadlock Gang, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Socialite Ashe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 00:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18767191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: "The hell are they doing?" Jesse asks from beside her."Don't know. All I know is this house is my one and only safe haven, something no one else knows about. I'm gonna tear whoever that is a new one." Ashe cocks her rifle, looking at Jesse. All it takes is a nod, a single gesture for him to be on the same page as her.Whoever that is, they're not going to make it out alive. No one crosses Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe and lives to talk about it.





	The Socialite and the Ruffian

**Author's Note:**

> I never planned on adding to this universe prior to when they're late twenty-somethings and about to embark on a sizable partnership with a certain Japanese clan, but Deadlock Jesse and Socialite Ashe came out with Archives and a couple of shitposts later, I have a 5k+ fic to show for it.
> 
> I'm kind of glad I did write this, I think this is a nice addition to this universe, and sets up their mindset and motives leading into the next fic.
> 
> You'll need to read the first two parts to truly understand the events in this fic.

Ashe shifts her weight from one foot to the other impatiently as she waits for Jesse to stop laughing his ass off. It's the works: his head is thrown back, he’s gasping for air, he’s clutching at his chest. It's a miracle he hasn't snorted yet.

_And_ he's fucking lucky she hasn't snatched his stupid hat from his head and smacked him with it to get him to stop.

Jesse sighs heavily when his tide of laughter _finally_ dies down, and he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. " _That_ is fucking hideous.”

“Fuck you,” Ashe snaps, turning her back on him. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, her smile grows wider with each passing moment. She fell in love with this outfit the second she laid eyes on it, from the pink coat with the gold trims and the _perfect_ length tail to the white trousers, it was like it was made just for her. “I look fucking _hot_.”

“Since _when_ is _that_ shade pink your colour?” Jesse asks, stretching out on the armchair behind her. She glares at him when he shifts, resting his head on one armrest, his knees hanging over the other. “You complain endlessly about that pink _all_ the time.”

“Not _this_ shade of pink. Hot pink is gorgeous.” Ashe smoothes her hands down the front of her coat. “Fuschia. Fuschia is gross.”

"Same shit," Jesse says dismissively. "It’s still hideous.”

Ashe rolls her eyes. She knew letting Jesse into her room while she changed into this _beautiful_ outfit would get his blood pumping. She didn't expect it would be in _this_ way. “Says the guy who walks around with one arm ripped off his jacket," she retorts, "who _chooses_ to wear mismatched gloves.” She scowls at him through the mirror. “At least I’m not a disaster.”

Jesse chuckles, standing up and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You _love_ my mismatched gloves,” he coos, kissing the spot behind her ear that always sends a shiver down her spine. “How would I do this otherwise?” His left-hand trails down her front slowly, and she bites her lip when he slides into her pants and underwear.

“Quit it,” she murmurs, closing her eyes and sighing contently when he rubs against her folds. She wants to fight him, to not give him the satisfaction after what he said, but her willpower is literally torn to shreds when he massages her clit with a calloused finger.

She rolls her hips and grinds against him, something she is simply unable to control even if she _wanted_ to. _Fuck_ , she doesn’t want him to stop. It would be so easy to give in, to slide down her pants and have kinky, clothed sex right in front of this mirror.

But she comes to her senses, opening her eyes and looking at him through the mirror as she wraps her hand around his wrist to get his attention. “I’m going to be late if we continue,” she murmurs.

“Don’t even want a quickie?” he asks, kissing her neck.

“ _When_ I fuck you in this, it’ll be when I can take my time with you,” she breathes, brushing her nose against his hairline. He lifts his head, and she meets him, kissing him softly. “Which can be _after_ the event.”

Jesse hums, sliding his hand out of her pants and resting it on her hip. “I look forward to it.” He presses one last kiss to her temple before stepping away, and regret instantly washes over her.

She should have taken him up on the quickie.

Jesse huffs as he adjusts himself, gaining her attention. “I’m gonna be fuckin’ hard all afternoon now.”

“Ain’t my problem,” Ashe says offhandedly, ignoring the fact that she is indeed _soaking_ and will be for a while. Once the wave of agitation has settled, she turns to face him, and her eyes drop to the very visible outline of his cock in his jeans. “Now _that_ is an image worth keeping,” she says, grabbing her phone from the vanity table to take a photo.

Jesse, to his credit, owns it, even going to the effort of placing his hand over the base, grabbing it between thumb and forefinger to really highlight the outline. She bites her lip as she snaps the photo, meeting Jesse’s gaze when she’s done.

“One for the spank bank?” Jesse asks, winking.

“One, gross,” she says, pocketing her phone, “and two, who _says_ that anymore?”

“Uncultured swine,” Jesse replies, adjusting himself again. It theatrically takes both hands, squatting, and a satisfied groan to get it done. “Shit, I _sure_ am glad I’m freeballing today.”

"Yep, you're the very _definition_ of disaster," Ashe says as affectionately as she can without breaking the unimpressed facade she's got going at the moment. She sits down on her bed, reaching for her boot. “I can’t _believe_ I’m _into_ you,” she mutters.

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Jesse says jovially.

“And _if_ you had actually gone out and bought a suit,” Ashe says, zipping up her boot before reaching for the second one, “you’d be joining me, and you’d be _fucking_ me in said suit later.”

“Fuck that," Jesse retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I ain’t spending my day with all them hoity-toity fucks looking down their nose at me.”

“But how entertaining would it be making fun of said hoity-toity fucks?” Ashe winks, zipping up her second boot.

Jesse shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It does nothing but makes his cock stand out more. “That’s why Bob’s volunteered to go in my stead.”

“But it’s not the same,” Ashe says, huffing. “I want _you_.”

Jesse just hums and smiles softly, approaching her when she stands. He pulls her in close, hands resting on the small of her back. “I know keeping _this_ up is something you wanna do, and I respect that— _hell_ , I _love_ that about you—but you better come back later so I can rip these clothes off you."

Ashe inhales and exhales slowly, placing her hands on Jesse's chest. There’s a reason why she’s clingy. And there’s a reason why _he’s_ so clingy. "Nothing's going to happen," she says quietly.

"You said that a month ago."

"I know—" Ashe takes a breath and holds it, looking into Jesse's eyes. "You knew what was going to happen. You knew they'd turn their backs on us." She tears her eyes away, staring at the Route 66 patch on his jacket as the guilt starts to creep up. They haven't really talked about the night of the failed sting, just bits and pieces like now. She doesn't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. "I should have listened to you."

Jesse cups the back of her head and kisses her forehead. "It's all right, I don't blame you."

"We probably wouldn't be as close as we are now had it not happened," Ashe says, wrapping her arms around Jesse’s waist and resting her head on his chest, holding him tight. She listens to his heartbeat, strong and rhythmic. Calming. “Wouldn’t have told you I love you otherwise.”

Jesse huffs a little laugh, kissing the top of her head. “Love you too.”

“The feds, Overwatch, whoever they were,” she says, looking up at him and resting her chin on her chest, “they won’t risk a public encounter. _Especially_ a charity event run by the city’s wealthiest." She looks around her bedroom, her childhood bedroom in her childhood home that she likes to visit when she wants a break from the clubhouse. "I’m more at risk of them busting in here than there.”

“I know,” Jesse breathes. “I might not be accompanying you at this shindig later, but I’ll watch from afar. Make sure nothing happens.”

Ashe rolls her eyes as affectionately as she can, stepping away from him. “Clingy much?”

“Hey, _you’re_ the one who confessed her love for _me_ , who refuses to be outside of arm's reach of me." He smirks slyly, folding his arms over his chest. "Who _insists_ on sharing my small-ass bed we both can’t fit on unless we sleep on our sides.”

“Oh,” Ashe says, smirking playfully, “so you wanna sleep alone? That it?”

Jesse stalks forward, one hand cupping her face, the other on the small of her back, pulling her in close again. “Never,” he whispers, tipping her head back and kissing her softly.

She melts into the kiss, grasping his jacket and holding on tight. He licks gently against her bottom lip, and the second she feels the soft slide of his tongue against hers, she whimpers, her knees weaken.

Despite everything that happened on the night they lost Nathan and Ethan, once the adrenaline of the win faded it left behind a void of anxiety. What if they'd lost? What if Jesse had been taken away? She can't lose him. She _couldn't_ lose him.

Hooking her arms around his neck, she kisses with a little more ferocity. Jesse is here, now, a fucking badass when pushed to his limits. He is hers. All hers and no one else's.

As the kiss slows, she grazes her teeth against his bottom lip as she pulls away, just enough to look into his eyes. “I cannot wait till I get back.”

“So you wanna…” he trails off, waggling his eyebrows.

“I’ll be two hours, max. Make an appearance, say a few words. Then,” she smirks slyly, “I’m going to drag you away, find somewhere semi-public where I can fuck you so hard you won't be able to see straight.”

“Kinky,” Jesse murmurs, winking. “But what happened to taking your time with me? 'Cause I still want that.”

"Jess, I'm so fuckin' horny it'll be a damn miracle I don't excuse myself halfway through this thing and rub one out."

Jesse's eyes widen and he groans. "Will you? God, just thinking about it is making my dick throb."

"Maybe," Ashe murmurs, dragging her hand down his torso, over his belt buckle and onto his cock, cupping it. She smirks when she feels it twitch. "Might need it to think clearly when the target shooting happens."

"I love that this thing has clay targets for you bored, rich folks to play with."

"It's the highlight of the event. I'm winner three straight years in a row," Ashe beams. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Just when I couldn't be more turned on," Jesse murmurs, pressing his lips to her neck. He rolls his hips, grinding against her hand, and she bites her lip to suppress a moan.  

"Keep it in your pants," Ashe says, pushing him away.

Jesse groans, taking a step back. “You are the very definition of evil, you know that?”

Raising an eyebrow, Ashe turns her back on him. She picks up her hat sitting on her dresser, putting it on, setting it so it's got her trademark tilt before giving her reflection an affirmative nod. Shit, she looks fucking _gorgeous._

“Well, there’s no reason to rush home,” Jesse says, and Ashe frowns, turning around to look him in the eye. “That right there,” he points to her hat, “is a boner killer. What the fuck _is_ that? A bit of fabric? A pocket square on steroids?”

“It’s _fashion_ ,” Ashe states, rolling her eyes as she turns to admire her reflection. “I wouldn’t _expect_ you to understand.”

“Well, I _don’t,_ ” Jesse says softly, standing behind her again, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder.  The brim of his hat knocks hers out of place, and she suppresses a huff. “I’m happy that it makes you happy, but you look so much better in leather than _this_.”

“I know,” Ashe replies, placing her hands on Jesse’s forearms. “I just get sick of wearing leather, day in and day out." She looks at Jesse through the mirror, and Jesse looks back, smiling softly. "I know we’re not exactly the _good_ guys, but I’ve got a front to maintain, y’know? I've been doing this all my life and I ain't about to stop it now."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"'Sides," she says with a small shrug, "I'm hiding in plain sight. No one’ll suspect the helpless, orphaned daughter of Jonathan and Charlotte Ashe to be the co-founder of an outlaw gang when she donates money to charity.”

Jesse scoffs. “Fairly certain that’s all out the window now with the failed sting.”

“Sure, Overwatch or the feds or whoever they were might know, but Dr. Henry, who brought me into this world, won’t have a clue. And even then, if he did, he wouldn’t believe it.” She smirks at Jesse, recalling the good doctor’s words from her parent’s funeral. “I’m 'sweet and innocent and pure', remember.”

Jesse snorts, squeezing her tight. “If you’re pure, then I’m a fucking saint. _And_ if he had an inkling of just what you get up to,” Jesse's hands fall to her hips and he grinds his erection against her ass, "he'd go into cardiac arrest."

Biting her lip, molten heat pools in Ashe's core. She had done her best to make sure she couldn't feel his cock unless she _wanted_ to, and now that he's doing this, it's all she fucking wants. Screw being on time to this event. If she doesn't get Jesse inside her right this very moment she might explode.

"Jesse," she mewls, tipping her head back against his shoulder. He meets her in a searing kiss, and she can't hold back anymore, rolling her tongue into his mouth. 

The grip on her hips tightens and Jesse groans, low in his throat. She's had enough of this torment, roughly unbuttoning her pants. It takes him a moment, but once Jesse realises what’s happening, he breaks off the kiss.

"What happened to after?" he murmurs, smirking.

"Fuck that, I need you inside me now." Ashe slides down her pants and underwear, bending over the vanity table. "And there's still after," she says, glancing over her shoulder, watching as Jesse pulls his cock out of his jeans. She bites her lip, he's rock fucking hard and leaking pre, a bead pools at his slit.

"After," he murmurs, turning her and standing between her legs. He sweeps almost everything on the vanity table aside, makeup and brushes fall to the carpet below. "I like the way you think."

With a smirk, Ashe lifts herself up on the table. Jesse leans forward, she hooks her hands around his neck and lifts her legs, Jesse helps to raise them onto his chest, her ankles rest against his shoulders.

Ashe bites her lip when she feels the blunt press of his cock against her entrance, and moans when he pushes in. "Fuck," she groans when he bottoms out, a shiver wracks her entire body.

"Haven't even done anything yet," Jesse purrs.

"You're doing plenty," Ashe groans, bucking again against him. She's already sitting on the edge of orgasm, it won't take much for her to come.

"How about this," he says, pulling out slowly.

"Jess, I don't have time for—"

Ashe moans, long and loud, when Jesse thrusts into her hard. She holds onto him tight, the vanity table rocks and creaks underneath her.

"Liz," Jesse moans, squeezing his eyes shut. He leans down a little more—it’s times like this she’s glad she does yoga three times a week—and pushes in even deeper.  

A bolt of pleasure surges through her, yet she still sits on the edge. _Fuck_ , she just needs that little bit more, to rub against her clit to push her over—

She snaps back into the present when she hears several loud pops coming from another room in the house. "What was that?"

Jesse doesn't answer, doesn't even stop thrusting.

"Jesse, will you fuckin' stop for a second!" she yells, finally getting his attention.

He stops thrusting and after a beat of silence, he tsks. "What?!"

Ashe opens her mouth to speak when she hears more pops which are definitely gunshots. "That."

He looks down at her, his frown deepens, and after a moment, he huffs. "Aww hell," he mutters, pulling out and easing her down. "Whoever that is, I got dibs."

"Says you,” Ashe retorts, feet falling to the ground. She reaches for her pants, pulling them up. “I hadn't come yet."

"Me either," Jesse growls, stuffing his cock into his jeans.

Ashe grabs Viper resting against the wall beside the door and a box of ammo from the shelf, stuffing it in her pocket. She picks up her dynamite from the vanity table and pulls her door open. She glances over her shoulder at Jesse who is only doing up his jeans now. “C’mon!”

“Hey!" He snatches his gun belt from the bed, wrapping it around his waist. "You try stuffing a wet, slimy hot dog into your pants and see how fast you can get it done!”

“You’re so fucking gross,” Ashe admonishes. She runs down the corridor to the living area, seeing Bob standing in front of the bullet hole ridden window.

“Drive by?” Ashe asks.

Bob looks at her, blinks affirmatively, then points out the window. Ashe glances out, shielding her eyes from the low setting sun, seeing a stationary van down the driveway.

"The fuck are they doing?" Jesse asks from beside her.

"Don't fuckin' know. _All_ I know is this house is my one and only safe haven, something _no one else_ knows about. I'm gonna tear whoever that is a new one." Ashe cocks her rifle, looking at Jesse. All it takes is a nod, a single gesture for him to be on the same page as her.

Whoever that is, they're not going to make it out alive. No one crosses Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe and lives to talk about it. Not now, not after the failed sting.

She rushes out of the house and through the garden towards the van. She can't see what the problem is, but as it starts to tear away, she shoots one of the grav pods. The van crashes to the ground, skidding along the driveway and sending sparks flying.

Aiming her rifle and looking down the sights, she tries to get a peek through the passenger side window. When the glass is broken by the butt of a gun, she ducks behind the hedge. She stays stock still, curling in on herself when bullets start flying, and Jesse comes to a crashing halt beside her, lying flat on the ground.

"You see how many?" Jesse asks, reloading Peacekeeper.

"At least two. Getaway driver and whoever's firing."

Jesse hums and nods, glancing at Ashe as he flicks the cylinder in place. “How d’you wanna handle it?”

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she thinks about her options. If she kills them all, more will likely come. If they leave one... “Kill all except one so they can tell whoever sent them what happened.”

“And risk retaliation?”

“ _Fuck_ retaliation. I’m not going to get walked all over by these cowards.”

And with that statement, now that the shots have stopped, she peeks above the hedge and sees someone hunched over looking at the damaged grav pod. She aims at the ground beside them and fires, the person reels, falling flat on their back.

“On your feet,” she orders, standing and cocking Viper.

The person—a kid at least a couple years younger than Jesse—stands, raising his arms slowly. He doesn’t look like he has a weapon on him, but she doesn’t trust him in any case, keeping her distance by staying behind this hedge.  

“How many are with you?”

“T-two more,” the kid stammers.

That’s one more than Ashe thought, and she and Jesse are outnumbered. She analyses the kid’s clothes, and he isn’t wearing a patch or any other identifying clothing. “Who sent you?” she asks.

“In—Inf—”

Ashe ducks behind the hedge again the moment she sees a flash of light from within the cab of the van, and she hears the bullet whizz past above her.

“Stupid fucking mistake!” she screams, pulling out her dynamite from her pocket. The second the shots stop, she activates the timer for the detonator and flings it towards the van, pops her head up and aims, following its trajectory—

“What _fucking_ good is tossing your purse out going to do?!”

Ashe glances at Jesse from the corner of her eye. She paid good money to have her dynamite for today’s event to look like a clutch, and she’s fucking glad she brought it along.

When she hears laughter from the van, and without taking her eyes of Jesse, she fires a round. The dynamite explodes, severely damaging the vehicle and sending it skidding further down the driveway.

“Ohhhhh,” Jesse says from beside her, and Ashe cannot help but smirk. Then he frowns. “That was right next to us when we were fucking.”

“Sure was.”

“I am so turned on right now.”

Ashe barks a laugh. Jesse’s got _quite_ the danger kink, and it’s fucking sexy. “Keep it in your pants,” she says, despite being about just as turned on—she still hasn’t come down from earlier. “We’ve got some cleaning up to do.” She stands, walks around the hedge and approaches the van. The kid from earlier caught onto the dynamite and was out of the blast radius, Ashe glares at him as they make eye contact, and he stays exactly where he is, hands raised again.

Someone stumbles out of the back of the van, looking over his shoulder as he tries to run off, but he trips over himself. Ashe aims her rifle at him, and as he fumbles with his gun on his holster, she applies the slightest bit of pressure to the trigger—

A crack of a single gunshot echoes, and the man drops to the ground. Ashe looks over her shoulder at Jesse, he winks as he blows the smoke from the muzzle of his gun. He then aims it at the kid, the kid squeezes his eyes shut and visibly shakes.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Jesse admonishes. “I’m not goin’ to hurt you, so _please_ stop pissing yourself.”

Ashe rolls her eyes and checks the cab, and the guy who took the shot at her is out cold or dead, she’s not sure. She pulls on the door and it opens ajar with a loud creak. Rifle aimed at him, she pulls on his collar, he falls to the seat, eyes open and glassy. Blood leeches out of a wound on his neck, a piece of shrapnel protrudes out of him.

Walking past the caved-in side of the van, she checks the rear, there’s another guy in there who’s just as dead as the first. Sitting in his own blood, this one copped a nasty gash to his thigh.

There’s no one else, but coupled with the guy Jesse took out, lying face up with a bullet hole between his eyes, the kid lied to her about their numbers. Turning her back on the van, she approaches the kid. “What was your goal here?”

Whatever fear the kid had from earlier is gone as he scowls at Ashe. “They knew you’d be here. We didn’t know _he’d_ be here,” he says, glancing at Jesse.

Ashe narrows her eyes. “So you think _he’s_ running the show?”

“We all know _you’re_ the one in charge,” the kid replies. “ _He_ is a wild animal. You saw what he did.” He flicks his head at the body on the ground.

“Despite pissing yourself, you’ve got balls, kid,” Jesse says. “So your aim was to take out a girl, then? Four of you against one of her?”

“Cut the head off the snake and the rest of it dies,” he says offhandedly.

“So you think by taking me out,” Ashe says, taking a step forward, “that Jesse’d just leave it? Walk away, never come back?”

“He’d do something stupid and get himself killed.”

Jesse barks a laugh, looking sidelong at Ashe. “Well, he ain’t wrong.”

“So,” the kid continues, “who are the _rest_ of you when you’re both gone?”

Jesse sighs heavily, keeping his gun aimed at the kid as he turns to face Ashe. “I’m _sick_ of these stupid _fucks_ thinking we don’t have a handle on the gang. Sick to _fucking_ death.”

“It’s astounding, honestly,” Ashe replies. She ignores the stab of anxiety in her gut—if something were to happen to the both of them, right here, right now, the gang would probably fall apart. Every gang they've managed to convince to join them would go back to infighting, ultimately going their separate ways if they didn't kill each other first. A legacy set up to last generations would turn to ash. But the kid doesn’t need to know that. “We’ve been doing this for what? Five years?”

“Yep,” Jesse breathes, giving the kid his full attention again. “Stand.”

The kid looks between Jesse and Ashe, and slowly, cautiously, he stands.

“You’ve got two options,” Jesse continues. “Leave, walk back to the hole you crawled out of and tell the rest of  _Inferno's Princes_  what happened, or die here, now, with your friends.”

The kid glances at the van, then back. “I’ll tell them.”

“Tell them if we see them, _any_ of them in our territory, we’ll kill them where they stand,” Jesse says. “Unless, of course, you’d rather _join_ us.”

“No,” the kid retorts quickly, defiantly lifting his chin.

“Loyal, I get that,” Jesse says. “Must suck being on the losing side without even realising, though.”

“Depends on where you’re sitting,” the kid replies. “Besides, I don’t like working for people who shit where they eat.”

Jesse barks a laugh. “The balls on this kid,” he says bitterly. “Get out of here. We’re done.”

The kid lowers his hands reluctantly, and doesn’t take his eyes off them until he starts to walk away. Another crack of a gunshot goes off and Ashe jumps about as high as the kid who trips over himself, looking at the rising plume of dust by his feet before breaking off in a sprint.

“Was that necessary?” Ashe scolds, giving Jesse her attention.

Jesse just chuckles, twirling the gun on his finger before holstering it. “It got him moving, didn’t it?”

“He _was_ moving.”

“Too fucking slow.” Jesse grabs hold of Ashe’s waist, pulling her in close. “We almost died today.”

Ashe rolls her eyes. “Hardly.”

“I almost knocked your dynamite off the table. What would’ve happened had the detonator been activated?”

It takes an amazing amount of restraint not to smile. Given all the times today for Jesse to think they were going to die, _that_ would be the one he focuses on. “I would’ve shut the thing off.”

Jesse hums, leaning down to kiss her neck. A shiver wracks her entire body, and she closes her eyes, holding onto his shoulders. “Wasn’t lying when I said it was a turn on,” he murmurs against her skin.

“Jess, there are dead men literally six feet away.”

“Kinky.”

Ashe takes a breath and holds it. _This_ is the man who she chooses to spend her time with. This sex-addicted joker.

But honestly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“We need to clean this up,” she whispers.

“They’ll still be here when we’re done.” He licks a stripe up her neck, and she whimpers. “I’ll clean it up while you’re out.”

“What if…”

“This is private property out in the middle of nowhere. Cops aren’t coming.”

“You are one sick fuck,” Ashe murmurs, fighting the urge to give in, to reach down and palm him through his jeans as his lips inch closer to her jawline.

“ _You’re_ the one who fucks _me_ after action like this,” Jesse says, hands dropping to her ass as he grinds against her. “Not my fault I’m so bloodlusted.”

Ashe opens her eyes, looking into Jesse's. He's so close, enough to breathe in his air, feel the caress on her lips. He's right though—she does usually fuck him after something like this, but _after_ they’ve left the scene of the crime and in the safe confines of their clubhouse.

Today, though, feels different. Perhaps it's the dread sitting in the pit of her stomach, that her home isn't safe anymore. That people will come here and take her away, away from this life and away from Jesse. Despite Jesse’s jokes, she was shot at _twice_ today. What _if_ something had happened. What if, right now, he was holding her because she was dying in his arms?

She stares into Jesse's eyes, and she has to blink away tears. She has him, here, now, right this second, eager and willing to give himself to her.

With a subtle nod, she takes his hand, leading him to behind the hedge again. She pulls him down to sitting, climbs into his lap and kisses him hard. There is a ferocity behind this kiss, this ‘I almost lost you’ kiss, and she holds onto him tight.

He moves to undo her pants, and she breaks off the kiss, looking into his eyes as she stands, unzipping one boot.

“Really goin’ all out,” he says teasingly.

“Ain’t getting grass stains on my new white trousers,” she says, sliding out of the boot and setting it down.

“So you’re goin’ full monty out here, in full view?”

“Full view of whom?” She kicks aside her second boot and stands. “No one can see us.”

Jesse bites his lip as she slides out of her trousers and underwear, leaning back on his elbows and stretching his legs. “Goddamn,” he breathes, moving his hand to palm himself through his jeans.

With nothing more than a raised eyebrow, she unbuttons her coat, placing that on the grass beside her. She sits in Jesse’s lap again, bats his hand away, undoes his jeans, reaches inside for his cock and pulls it out. Looking him in the eye, she stands on her knees, lines him at her entrance, and with a shaky breath, a shiver that cascades down her spine, she sinks down slowly, savouring every single inch, relishing in the way his eyes flutter, his mouth hangs open, until she’s sitting in his lap again.

His hands settle on her thighs, and she meets him, weaving their fingers together. Wordlessly, she rocks her hips, slowly, gently. The desperateness from earlier is gone, she doesn’t want a quick fuck—if she had it her way, she’d fuck him all damn day.

“Wish you were coming with me,” she murmurs, saying it without thinking. “Don’t want you out of my sight.”

“Feeling extra sentimental?” Jesse smiles warmly. “Ain’t like you.”

She opens her mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. She looks into his eyes, big and amber, crinkling at the edges as he smiles. Before this, before now, she thought she knew love. She’s realising what they had was purely physical. She loved Jesse because she was sleeping with him. Right now, those words she said that night a month ago feel empty. They didn’t back then, but now, they mean nothing.

As tears start to well, blurring her vision, she sweeps down to kiss him, soft and tender. Right this very moment, her heart is bursting, positively full and overflowing. Her love for him is so strong, carrying the same intensity as a thousand suns. She might have a whole lifetime ahead of her, but as today as just proven, the future— _their_ future— _is_ uncertain.

“Jess,” she whispers, pressing her forehead to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs. “Love you to the moon and back.”

“You’re…” Whatever thought she had dies in her throat, and she pulls away to look at him, at his silly, goofy grin. “D’you mean it?”

“Absolutely. Been thinkin’ it for a while—properly thinking it, and what that kid said made it all real. If _anything_ happened to you, if someone touched a single hair on your head, I’d stop at nothing to bring them to justice.”

“Jess…”

“I’d give my life to protect you, sweetheart.”

Tears spill down her cheeks, and she crashes her lips against Jesse’s. She’s so fucking happy, she doesn’t think she’s _ever_ felt like this, like she could just float away like a cloud.

Jesse shifts underneath her, and she realises she’s stopped fucking him. Dragging his arms to above his head, she pulls up and looks into his eyes as she rocks back and forth. She smiles when he does his adorable little combined quiver and lip bite, and when he makes his first quiet moan, she practically sobs. This is her man, her partner in crime, the ruffian she wants to spend the rest of her life with.

“Liz,” Jesse moans, snapping her into the present. He bucks into her, meeting her thrusts.

She moans, squeezing his hands tight when she feels him bring his knees up. She braces herself when she feels him rock, and practically grunts when he turns them, pushing his weight against her.  

“Jess,” she mewls, writhing underneath him. His weight is on the right side of perfect, enough to tip her over the edge. She wraps her legs around his waist tight, her toes curl as he fucks into her hard and fast, moaning against the skin of her neck until he finally stops with one last, hard thrust.

She nuzzles against his face as she rides out the high, and he lifts his head, just enough to share another slow, passionate kiss. When he pulls up, she looks into his eyes as she sweeps a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

“You’re going to be late,” Jesse says softly, turning his head and kissing her palm.

Ashe shrugs. “Worth it." She smiles sheepishly. "Besides, why be on time when I can be fashionably late.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic thanks to [wondering why Jesse's left glove is fingerless](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie/status/1120882222918037504), and [Ashe tossing her dynamite when Jesse thought it was a simple clutch](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie/status/1117933149378363393). 
> 
> Cause I know English isn't everyone's first language, the idiom "don't shit where you eat" means don't have any romantic relationships with a co-worker.
> 
> For more shitposts, rants, raves, and general tomfoolery, you can follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie)


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